


Proper Ways of Seal Removal

by C_A



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut, Penetration But No Interfacing, Seal Breaking, Seal Removal, Sticky, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 13:11:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4222986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_A/pseuds/C_A
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Caminus, seal removal is surrounded by misinformation. Fortunately, Feedback knows exactly what she's doing when Ricochet asks for her help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proper Ways of Seal Removal

Seal breaking was such a hassle some days, Feedback often wondered why it wasn't more popular for bots to go to a medic to get it removed. Not that she was bothered by the process – in fact, she really enjoyed helping a partner through it, because she got to ensure it was as pleasant and painless as possible. Some were so skittish about it due to rumors about potential complications (which were practically nonexistent if bots just read up on what to do first) that they rushed through it. This, of course, resulted in unnecessary amounts of pain.  

Not to mention the term itself was ridiculously misleading; one didn't just “break” the seal and then the job was done, it had to be removed. The mesh wall itself wasn't particularly dangerous, but the metal ring that kept it in place couldn't stay there. It could break during interface and cut the valve walls. She had done her best to pass as much information to her previous partners as possible, but there was only so much one bot could do. 

There was also the simple issue that everyone reacted differently; some bots wanted to continue on to interfacing the moment the seal was removed, and their resulting overload would help sooth any residual ache. She'd been with others who had to stop, had been too embarrassed or uncomfortable or – Solus forbid! - upset to continue on. Once, she and a mech had agreed on the “break and just pop it out” method, and his charge had instantly flatlined once she'd pulled the ring and mesh free, to his surprise. Feedback had been fine with this, as her discharge network allowed her to safely and painlessly eliminate built up charge, but he'd been too embarrassed to bring his charge back up that day.  

Currently, Feedback was propped up against the wall at the top of a berth, legs hanging halfway off the side. It was averagely sized, and therefore too small for her to lay down comfortably. They really should have done this in her room, where the berth was big enough to accommodate them, but this one had been closer. Next time, when they properly interfaced, they'd do it in her room, where they could relax and pick at the small stash of energon treats she kept. 

Her frame was bulkier because of the built-in power discharge network and overlaying armor. Capable of monitoring thousands of conversations and transferring high quantities of active data  - simultaneously, if needed -  she'd seen little work on her red home world of Caminus. Her home was stable, with little reason to monitor her people's public communications. Now that they were actually communicating with Cybertron, as well as other colonies, a sort of experimental social networking grid had been set up to facilitate civilian interaction. If people were too nervous to travel off planet to meet strangers face to face, they could talk with them in what had been dubbed “chatrooms” first. Subforums allowed them to build conversations on shared interests; history (where everyone had something to say), battle tactics (always popular with Cybertronians), music and dance, acting, religion (moderators had to be added) and general ask and tell information threads let them “test the roads”, to borrow a Velocitron phrase. Suddenly her previously useless abilities were in high demand as more bots flocked to the grid. 

Her conjunx, currently spread over her lap, was a more common lightweight build, roughly the equivalent to a Cybertronian or Velocitron racer frame. Her mask had been drawn back, and her detachable visor was sitting on the desk. Small, flat triangular sensor horns, attached to the sides of the helm and pointing back, were used to judge the space of the surrounding environment and whether something was hurtling towards their helm and how much time they had to move out of the way. Feedback had a small (minuscule!) fondness for sensor horns, and leaned forward to kiss the one closest to her. Ricochet sighed, but her venting stayed the same, following the meditation techniques she'd learned during her short time studying the way of the flame. She'd been so nervous, but determined, and Feedback had had to keep from sweeping her up off her pedes in the middle of her workplace. She'd been off shift, but  _still_. 

Now, tucked away in Ricochet's berth, she could coddle her conjunx all she liked. She smoothed her hands up thighs, cream and a soft, muted orange. She thought they looked lovely together, but Ricochet insisted that one day she'd get around to changing the orange to something else. Teal, maybe, or the bright red popular with speedsters. She wasn't talking now, squirming briefly under Feedback's hands before settling down again. She pressed her thumbs to the swollen valve lips, tracing them up to the exterior node. Ricochet's venting seemed so loud, and the quiet click of her intake closing when her node was rubbed over and circled was perfectly audible in the small room. 

Feedback kept the stimulation steady, matching her partner vent for vent, before drawing her thumb away from the node. Better to keep the charge at a comfortable low-medium, since they'd set this session aside  _just_ for removing Ricochet's seal. She'd have used her glossa for preparation, but Ricochet had insisted she wanted to relax in her conjunx's arms while it happened. She returned her attention to the valve lips, the inner lining already coated with lubrication.  

“Is this alright?” She asked, prodding gently at the bottom of the valve where a small line of sensor nodes resided under the inner lining.  

Silence, and Feedback realized that her conjunx was halfway to recharge, leaning heavily on her chassis. “Hey, you still with me?” 

Ricochet hummed an affirmative, then straightened up. “Hold on,” she mumbled, disentangling from each other. Feedback drew back, and watched as her partner arched her back, stretching her arms above her head before a soft  _pop_ left her slumping heavily against her. She hooked her fingers into the top of Feedback's chest plating, draping her other arm over a shoulder flare before sighing happily. “Right, I'm good, keep going.”

“That's my girl,” Feedback whispered, finger sliding between slick valve folds, lubrication made thick with arousal and a slowly rising charge. She hit an obstruction just a little further in, and retreated, drawing her finger up across the exterior node, the underside of a spike, and finally to the tip where she gathered the growing transfluid there. Ricochet's optics brightened, and she made a sound of confusion. “Just to help it along, remember? Your charge is rising again and the mesh wall seems a bit on the thick side.” 

“Sorry.” 

“No apologies necessary, I already told you I like to doing this.” 

“That's 'cause you're - ” her venting hitched at the touch of cooler transfluid, “ - a pervert. Bet if you'd had a seal you wouldn't like it so much.” 

“Doubt it.” They were only a few hundred years apart in age, but Feedback had been onlined before seals became standard, and Ricochet just after. “I'm a deviant through and through, right?” Finally lifting her other hand from around her conjunx's hips, she spread the valve lips again and slid her finger back in, careful to spread the majority of the fluid against the mesh and surrounding lining. She noticed Ricochet's venting had picked up speed, and when she realized why, had to stifle a laugh. “You're getting hot with your own transfluid inside you?” 

“Feedback!” 

“Yeeees?” She asked, massaging the lightly packed nodes nearest the entrance before withdrawing.  

“Come on, why'd you stop?”

“You said you only wanted to remove the seal, not 'face yet. If your charge goes up any higher it's gonna be uncomfortable. Here,” she reached over and plucked a cube of energon, topped with coolant foam, off the desk and handed it off, “drink this.” 

Ricochet huffed and cracked the edge of the cube, sucking the foam off the top. She looked moody, which was probably difficult to do since she was so keyed up. “What if I said I wanted to 'face now?”

“You don't, though, that's just the charge talking.” Feedback wrapped her arms around her, dropping a kiss to her helm. “Remember? You said you didn't want to right after and we agreed this would only be for removal.” She could feel the charge dropping slowly, signified by the temperature decrease. “We could 'face now but you'd probably be unhappy with it after and I'd rather not risk it. After your charge has come down, if you still want, we can 'face tomorrow.” 

“It'll be healed by then?” 

“There'll no damage, I promise.” 

Ricochet's mumbled “right” didn't sound particularly sincere, but Feedback was a fan of letting her actions speak for themselves. “Promise,” she said again, taking the empty cube back. The charge had fallen to acceptable levels, at least for Ricochet. She'd forgotten to bring a second cube for herself, too excited to think of it, but brushed it off. Her charge was contained safely behind her discharge network, keeping her temperature cool, and she could manually disperse it after they were done. She'd just have to make sure her interface cover remained tightly closed to prevent any fluid from seeping out. Her spike was hidden behind a locked, spiral casing.  

Ricochet leaned back, watching her slid a finger back in. The walls were still warm, and when she found the mesh it was soft and gave easily. Internal lubrication would have been good enough on its own, but transfluid sped the process up. The sparsely spread sensors in the mesh weren't affected, but the connections between them were weakened by the dissolution. When she broke through, Ricochet didn't even twitch. Working a second finger in, she slipped it through the mesh opening, keeping her first finger on the other side. This was the “tricky” part, as far as removal went. She could just hook one finger on the edge and tug it out, and while that wouldn't exactly hurt at this point, none of her past partners had found it particularly pleasant. Her favored method took longer, but was easier on them. 

The metal ring was made to stay in place unless actively removed, which kept it from coming dislodged during physical activity. The mesh had fallen apart to the point that it no longer kept her fingers separated, and she carefully worked each finger along the lining near the ring. The seal was set into a line of firm rubber, barely noticeable from the valve walls around it. Heat and pressure made it soft, and she pushed at it from both sides of the ring, working around until the lining was stretched. It came free, sliding sideways, and she pulled it out with a smile. 

“Tadaa.” 

“It that it?” Ricochet asked, plucking it from between her fingers. “It looks smaller than I thought.” 

“That's it! And our valves really aren't that big when they're relaxed.” 

“Where's the mesh wall?”  

“It's dissolved and that comes out with the rest of the fluid. See?” A long trail of fluid ran down the inside of their thighs, and she dipped her finger into a white, opaque smear. “No harm done.” 

Ricochet stared, a look of suspicion fixed on her face before she sighed, tension falling from her shoulders. “Feedback.” 

“Hm?” 

“Love you,” she said, and leaned up to kiss her.  

They curled into each other, and peaceful silence filled the room, until Ricochet caught her stealing looks at the seal she was still holding. “What?” 

“Can I keep it?” 

“What? Why?” Realization lit her features, and she drew back. “You have some sort of collection of these somewhere, don't you?” 

“ _What?_   Why would I have that?” 

“Because you're weird.” 

“I am not, and I don't have a stash of seals hidden away. But if you were just gonna throw it away, I'd like to keep it, 'cause you're my conjunx and. Uh.” She'd been going somewhere with this, but the look of suspicion was back and Feedback figured shutting up was a good idea. 

“You're not gonna wear it anywhere, are you?” 

“Ew, no.” She paused, and then said, “although now that I think about it, I could put it in my - ” 

“Don't you dare!” Ricochet squealed, and then laughed, when she was picked up and cradled. “Ugh, fine. Here.” She deposited the seal ring into an open hand, giggling. “Don't do anything too weird with it without me.”

**Author's Note:**

> I suddenly really wanted seal removal porn, and on top to that, I wanted it to be painless. I also wanted some OFC of my own. For clarity's sake, Ricochet has nothing to do with G1 Ricochet (more proof that Transformers is running out of names).


End file.
